


Wild Paraphasia

by ionthesparrow



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Aquariums, M/M, Minnesota Wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ionthesparrow/pseuds/ionthesparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misnaming, or inserting random paraphasias into speech</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild Paraphasia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bestliars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/gifts).



> A treat for bestliars, because she's always been so good to me

* * *

 

Chuck comes home from the aquarium with dark, rich soil under his fingernails, the back of his neck red from the sun. Lines of salt faded into his shirt. 

In front of Jason, his movements slow down to almost nothing, until they last eons, until they have to be measured in ages and rings. Jason puts his hand over Chuck’s, arresting the last bit of its movement. 

They look at each other. 

 

 

The next morning, Chuck says, “You might as well come along. The aquarium probably has work for you, too.” 

Chuck takes them not through the front entrance, but around the back of the main building of the aquarium. He takes the steps of the loading dock two at a time, walks inside, and stops in front of an office. 

He raps twice on the open door. Jason stands half behind him, shy for no better reason than being unsure of what Chuck will say. 

Chuck greets the large man seated behind the desk. 

Without looking up, the man says, “You’re in the nursery again today, Chuck.” 

“Sure.” Chuck pauses. “But this is my friend. My roommate, Jason.” 

He doesn’t stutter over the words. He nudges Jason forward. “This is Sutes.” 

Sutes looks up. Face and body of a man who has spent a lifetime lifting things and not letting anyone know if he felt one way or the other about them. He eyes Jason up and down. He gestures back toward the door. “Go talk to Zach.” 

Zach, it’s clear, is the face of the operation. He has the smile of man who smiles as part of his job. “Sure,” he says. “Sure. We always have work.” 

He gives Jason a three-cent version of the aquarium tour. “A lot of what we do is rehabilitation. Always with the goal of release.” He points down a long hall, split into many rooms. “Those are the quarantine rooms. If you do any work in there – cleaning or anything, it’s really important to save them for last. Canker. Slime flux.” He shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “Nasty stuff.” 

The next room is brightly lit, filled with the sterile sinks and antiseptic smell of a veterinary office. Zach waves at a man bent over an examining table. “Hey, Doc.” Turning to Jason, he says, “This is Doc Koivu.” Turning back, he says, “How’s the patient?” 

A slender birch is on the table, positioned so that a section stripped raw of bark is eye level with Doc Koivu. A carved heart crowded with initials mars the flesh. 

Clear fluid oozes from the gash. 

“Just changing the dressing today.” Koivu’s fingers carefully trace the perimeter of the damaged area. “Healing nicely.” 

Zach plucks a dead leaf from one of the branches before moving on. “It’s unfortunate what some people do. We get a lot of former houseplants in here. Ficus and Dragon trees. People don’t think about how big they’ll get, and when they outgrow the space they just throw them outside. Or if they're outside and mess up the sidewalk or something, they just chop them down.” The flat line of his mouth makes it clear what he thinks about this practice. “When it’s nice like this, it’s not so bad. But they won’t survive the winter.” 

A rubber tree near the doorway has its branches bent close, almost like it’s leaning into Zach. “We find homes for them, though. Or move them to one of our sister aquariums farther south.” Zach smiles. He runs his hand over the leaves. 

 

 

Both of them come home now thick with dirt and salt. 

Both of them come home. 

Both of them come. 

The pads of Jason’s fingertips are pruned from time spent in the earth. 

For hours afterward, he keeps catching bright flashes of leaves floating through the air out of the corner of his eye. 

Looking at skin on skin, Jason is tired of puns. Jason is tired of jokes about the two meanings of the same word. 

 

 

The natives are kept in expansive paddocks behind the main cluster of buildings. Jason’s last job of the day is to take a head count. Sutes hands him a clicker and says, “Don’t get too close. Stick to the path.” He frowns at Jason. “It’s simple work.” And then again, “Stay on the path.” 

Jason walks out into the forest. The pines tower over him, pressing close around him, hiding the sky. He can hear the gentle swishing of the movement of their limbs as they feed quietly, the last meal of the day. 

The fallen needles are soft and slippery underfoot. 

The wind kicking up makes the bodies of the pines bend and shiver. Dusk is gathering; it’s been a long day. Jason wants nothing more than to finish. He walks quickly, clicking faithfully as he passes each massive trunk. 

The last piece of trail winds past a steep embankment, and as he turns the corner Jason spots a raw piece of landscape, fresh red of earth exposed. A stone the size of his head has come loose and tumbled down the slope. It’s come to rest pushing against the trunk of a sapling. A tree so new the needles look like feathers. The trunk can’t be more than an inch, inch and half in diameter. Even stranding straight, it wouldn’t reach Jason’s waist. 

The stone is pushing on it. The sapling cants at a hard angle, on the verge of being torn from the soil. It kneels and shakes in the wind. 

Jason stands in the long shadows and stillness. He turns the clicker over and over in his hand. He looks down at his feet, which have drifted to the edge of the path. 

Jason tucks the clicker into his pocket. He takes a breath, and steps off the path. 

He reaches the sapling quickly. He leans down, reaching for the stone. 

A loud, groaning creak makes him freeze in place. The shadows are thick and dark now. The only light left, blinding low-angle sun flares. Jason looks up. The trees loom so close they almost meet overhead, the sky blotted out. He sees branches, hesitant, waving. Everything else so still it feels like he can hear the forest breathe. 

He swallows. This deep, the trees are so massive he couldn’t get his arms around them. So many times his height. The weight to knock him over without even thinking, the lifespan that makes him nothing more than a buzzing insect in their midst. Stupid to step off the trail. Stupid to go so near to one so young, and a wounded one at that. 

Jason stands very slowly. The only sounds are what the wind makes and his heart in his chest. He takes one step back, then two, hands held in front and visible, slower than he’s ever moved. 

When he’s back on the path, the forest seems to take a collective sigh. 

Jason’s heart stays in his throat, pulse hammering. The adrenaline of realizing a terrible thing could have happened, but didn’t. 

 

 

At home with Chuck they take turns, moving past each other to wash at the metal sink. Sinking their arms into the deep basin, letting warm water wash away dirt, and sooth aches, and clear away the smell of sweat and pine. 

Chucks places his hand on the inside of Jason’s arm. The skin on the back of his hand is dark laid across the pale of Jason’s inner arm. 

Chuck’s thumb rubs across his skin, working to clear away sticky, clinging sap. 

At home with Chuck they take turns moving past each other, a careful dance of space and breath. Compared to some things, everything they do is so very, very fast. Compared to some things, they’re not moving at all. 

At home with Chuck they take turns, giving name to something, calling it what it’s not. 

 

 

* * *

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Wild Paraphasia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11996427) by [frecklebombfic (frecklebomb)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklebomb/pseuds/frecklebombfic)




End file.
